The Femboy Escort Agency Ch. 02

Marcus hated the colour pink. The candy floss flooring of the Sunny Bay apartment block was an eyesore, and reminded him of the 80s, even though he wasn't around back then, he imagined this very colour still pissed people off back then too. The apartment block was a panel-view, six-story building. He hated it here and wanted in and out as quick as possible. The door he was looking for was up ahead; 5B. From the end of the hallway he made out a window that gave a skyline spread of northside, rows of smaller tenement blocks, twisted TV aerials like old, rotten trees bleeding into the desert of flat, gravel roofs. He knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" A muffled voice called out.

"Who do you think?"

The door swung open, and Marcus stared in with a blank look. Before him stood Azalea, adorned in a thick, white cotton dressing gown; a cigarette between two of his pale fingers adorned with press-on nails. His green eyes were piercing, nestled between the curves lashes that he fluttered at Marcus before he turned away. "Oh."

"Oh? That's all I get?"

"What is it, Marcus?"

He shut the door behind him, and looked around the apartment. The same candy floss carpeting was in here too, only ended by the tiles of the kitchen. Azalea stepped into it and opened the fridge, looked at it for a moment, and then closed it. Marcus slumped down on the cream leather couch, a huge L-shaped thing adorned with scattered clothes. Azalea floated towards the balcony door, staring out at it, trying to act forlorn with a deep sigh. Marcus knew there wasn't a thought deeper than a puddle running through it at any one time, and this was all for show, for some revelation that wasn't nearly as much of one.

"So," he said as he puffed out fresh smoke.

"You told Lana you had the flu."

"There have been," he looked out towards the Hiko Falls skyline, "developments."

"Oh yeah? "

"I--" Azalea turned to face him, reminding Marcus of a terrible soap opera show. "I've been offered a modeling contract and I'm taking it. Consider this my notice."

Marcus only blinked. This wasn't the first time Azalea had delusions of grandeur. Modelling had been the new solution to the same old problem, but then so had photography, acting, and for some stupid fucking reason, horse-riding at one point. Marcus understood that nobody wanted to work for Feminina forever, he understood that, but Azalea had tried every other venue and always come back. It was the same, always; he would leave and then there would be radio silence for months, and then a sudden return with a demanding attitude and a half-assed apology, and then there would be normality for a while. But this was getting old now, thought Marcus, and he wasn't going to argue.

"Oh yeah? What agency?"

"You wouldn't know them. They're from Las Vegas."

"Try me anyway," he said as he yawned.

"VP Productions."

Marcus thought it over, nodding along. He clenched his fingers for a moment, trying to stem a sigh from crawling out his mouth. Azalea narrowed his eyes at him, waiting for a response.

"Nothing to say, Marcus?"

"Nope," he said.

Azalea took a step forward, flicked his cigarette over the balcony edge, and then put his hands on his hips. "Come on, out with it."

Marcus looked away with a roll of his eyes. "VP Productions is a modeling agency in Las Vegas, but they're a poacher dive. They hire you for a few shoots, your contract demands a hiring fee, then they start offering you other venues--stripping mostly, but for a lot of others I've known up there, it's mostly other stuff."

"Like?"

"Porn--real cheap amateur stuff. Terrible pay. Most people I know end up just getting turned out. I knew a girl who was poached a while back. She started doing some piss-play or rough stuff. I don't know what happened to her," he said with a shrug. "It's just what I hear."

"You could have just made all of that up--jus--just to scare me and make me come back to work," she said.

"I'm not holding a gun to your head, Az. You don't wanna come back, then don't."

"Reversal psychology," said Azalea as he folded his arms.

"It's reverse psychology. And I'm not doing that. You wanna do it, do it. I just wanted to know."

"So no demands, no insults here? No slapping sense into me and saying you'll treat me right, have my best interests at heart, huh?"

Marcus sighed. "I'm not a pimp--is insulting me going to make it easier to leave?"

"I'm sorry," said Azalea as he looked down, feigning shame. "You've always been kind--understanding but--I'm going to go for it."

Marcus raised his hands. "It's your choice, Az."

"It's Kyle--I don't work for you anymore."

"Okay. Kyle," said Marcus as he stood up. "Is that everything?"

"You're not even gonna try and convince me?"

"There's three casinos in this town if you wanna go play games. I've got stuff to do." He walked towards the door.

"Wait," whispered Azalea. Marcus looked back at him.

"One last favour. Let's leave on a high note," Azalea pulled at the belt of his gown and loosened it. The white cotton divided. "I've always wondered."

"Huh?" Marcus stared at the parting cotton.

"Since I'm not your employee anymore."

Marcus watched the gown glide from his frame. It crumpled to his feet, like a mound of marble displaying the curvaceous, creamy body beneath. His feathery hair almost covered his eyes, his hips were wide, displaying the small, pink cock that had begun to harden. He ran his fingers through his hair. "It's not against the rules anymore--so can we?"

"Az--"

"Sshh," he said as he walked over to Marcus, and gently pushed him backwards against the door. "Let me take care of you."

Marcus felt every muscle tense up, except the one Azalea wanted. He spun away. "Come on, Az--stop. I don't do this."

"Just once, Dee. Please."

He didn't even want to think it over. Employee or not, he wasn't interested in doing this, and knew all of the ramifications that would come screaming towards him; a freight train of bad decisions, derailing and destroying everything he'd built up. He felt Azalea's hands slid around him. For a split second he didn't fight it, and wondered why would it matter? He could smell the sweetness of Az's condioner, something sweet and peachy. Then he felt the soft kisses on his back that were almost weightless. "I want you to make love to me."

Marcus turned and grabbed his Az's arms. His eyes went wide, more white than iris. "No," he snapped. "This isn't right. Stop." He gently pushed him away. He couldn't breathe in here. The apartment had begun to fill with a thick, invisible fog. "I don't fuck ex-employees either."

"So I'm good enough to fuck for you but not enough by you?"

"What?" Marcus tilted his head, the words sounding as crazy as he expected from him. "No--I just don't want to do this. You know what--good luck with the modeling thing." He walked to the door.

"Fine," yelled Azalea, still naked with his arms crossed. His flawless face was scrunched up, and the hate was building deep within. Any second, he'd implode, and Marcus didn't want to be around for that. "Fuck you, Marcus Demasi. That's right. I don't need you and I don't want you. You pretend you care about people, about us, but we're just cash cows to you, right? Property."

Marcus shook his head and couldn't help the laughter from bubbling out. "You're insane."

"Leave," he screamed. "Never come back."

Marcus stepped out the door and closed it. He leant back on it and let out a sigh. What a damn psychopath. They'd argued like this plenty of times before, but not once had he ever tried this. The hurt horny puppy routine was a new act in the pantomime, and one that had made him feel so uncomfortable he couldn't wait to leave and never come back. No amount of sex was worth destroying his reputation, even his top earner, even if he could get away with it. It wasn't his way. There were rules you had to follow.

"Marcus, wait," he heard through the door.

Fuck. He tiptoed away from the door until he made it to the lift, and once he was back on the ground floor he ran back to his car as fast as he could. Up above he could hear Azalea yelling at him, but it was drowned out by the sound of his tyres screeching. He skirted out of the car park and back towards Feminina. He needed a break from that dramatic queen, and decided halfway back to the office that maybe it would be better to get some fresh potential. It seemed changed was inevitable, but that didn't have to be bad.

Harry Polinski had returned to Feminina every day for almost a week. He'd already checked his private account and found out he'd spent almost seven-thousand dollars. Every day he'd gotten a little braver. The first day he'd been too scared to try anything, and so Violet and him talked until the hour was up. The second, he'd touched Violet gently, kissing him, and dry-humping. By the third and fourth, he was examining him all over, appreciating his naked body, feeling his cock harden in his hand. By the fifth, he'd finally sucked his first ever cock, and tasted cum. Today was the day. He told himself. He'd finally overcome his nerves and do what he had been too afraid to do until now.

The bar was empty but maybe it was because he was here at midday. He'd told Cynthia his boss had him working overtime, and he'd be catching a flight later in the week. He wasn't sure now if that was the truth. How long could he keep this up? Doubts swarmed around him like flies, pestering him as he clenched his hands tightly together. I can't go back now, can I? Every thought was racing through his mind, until he saw that bright blue hair out the corner of his eye.

Violet was wearing the same leather bra, same g-string with that cute bulge. All the thoughts faded instantly as he looked him up and down. He's so beautiful. When he smiled, Harry wanted to just taste that sweetness on his lips, strawberry balm. Those pretty eyes were so inviting as Violet flexed his hand invitingly. He felt the electricity between their fingers as Violet pulled him off the stool, and back up the stairs.

"I missed you," said Violet in that smokey tone that made his cock throb.

"I missed you too."

The room he'd took him to was the same one as before. A darkened cove with with a blue, neon light around the edges. The black blanket bed with a crush velvet headboard had a table on either side, a lit candle on each, filling the room with a sweet cinnamon musk. Violet stood in front of the bed, and slowly undressed. They stared at each other in silence, no words needed to be said as Harry tore away at his tie, shedding the suit they were both naked; their cocks hard, responding to each other, throbbing and wanting. He stepped forward, and kissed Violet softly. Below he rubbed his thick shaft against Violet's, feeling their pricks touching, the softness of them together only made him harder. When he looked down, he saw the precum, dripping from Violet's cock, and knelt down.

"Can I?"

"Please," said Violet breathlessly.

He took the head in his mouth. The sweetness of Violet drizzling into his mouth. He tastes better than pussy. Violet's cheeks flushed red as he slid his cock deeper into his mouth, his head pushing to the back of his throat.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered and leant his head back, a moan floating with his exhale.

Harry felt his hands in his hair, the cock in his mouth pumping in and out of his throat harder and faster. Below, he'd had begun to jerk himself off, his prick was a thick and hard as concrete. He'd never been this hard in his life. With Cynthia, it had always been like something was missing, that he'd always been too conscious. This, right now, with this cock in his throat; it just clicked. He knew it, and his body felt it, returning the knowledge with a ravenous need to taste every drop from Violet's balls. He slid his tongue down the shaft, and lapped at the soft skin of his balls.

"Is today the day?" whispered Violet.

"It is, darling," he said with a smile; the beautiful, wet cock resting on his face.

Violet stepped away and mounted the bed on her knees. She looked back with that pleading look, and spread his bussy. "Breed me." He wiggled his ass and pulled a fresh condom out the bedside table. "Put it on and fuck me."

Harry opened the packet, and slid the latex over his cock. Then he crawled onto the bed, gripped Violet's cheeks, and spread them apart. Violet made his bussy wink, the tightness of it begging to be fucked. His tongue slid over the ridges of it, then trailed the rim of it, savouring the taste. The tip of his tongue teased the hole and slid inside; his tastebuds ignited and he felt his mouth filling with saliva. Got to get it nice and wet.

"Fuck me, daddy," begged Violet.

He rubbed the head of his cock against the hole, and gently pushed it in. It was a vice grip around the head, until finally it fit. Every muscle inside clenched to the ridges of his prick. He'd remembered the one time Cynthia had let him do it and he'd never even gotten inside. She'd said never again and that it was unclean and wrong. Yet, here, Violet took every inch of his thickness; his bussy swallowing all of it. There came warmth and pleasure with the deep moan that flowed from Violet's throat as sweet as honey, light as smoke. Curtains by his blue bangs, Violet looked to him with those lusty lowered lids and when his cock was all the way in, he slid all the way back out, and back in again, faster, faster, his fingers gripping his hips.

"Holy fuck," said Harry.

"Is it tight enough?" whispered Violet.

"I love your cunt--" He grunted, slamming his cock harder and deeper. He felt his balls slapping against Violet's and could already feel himself getting close. The weakness in his stomach and his skin set on fire as every conscious thought imploded into nothing but pure ectasy. He swam in it, until two words floated through; Not yet. He didn't want to lose this high so quickly, it was too much to give up right now. He was scared he'd never be able to have it again.

He slid out of him, and looked at the gaping hole. Violet's head was to the side as she pushed out heavy breaths. Harry climbed to the top of the bed, and slumped down on the pillow. "Sit on me," he said. "I wanna see your dick while I fuck you."

"Yes, baby," said Violet as he swung his legs over to straddle him, and then guided his cock straight back into his bussy. The vice grip returned, only now, Violet was moving. He pumped his hips up and down. Every time he'd feel the head of his dick on the precipice of his hole, the vacuum of it sucked his dick back in with a mind of its own. I've could have been doing this my whole life. The footnotes of the same missionary positions with his wife were a distant, fleeting fragment far off, and as the pleasure overtook every nerve ending of his brain and below, destroying any care for what once was, he knew he was going to blow his load deep and hard. He gripped Violet's hips, and watched his cute cock and balls bounce against his stomach, up and down; the head glistening with thick precum that drizzled down in silvery strings onto him.

"Fuck," whispered Violet as he slid his ass harder with his mouth open, eyes closed, looking for the final release. "I'm gonna--you're gonna make--"

"Please," begged Harry as he leant up on his elbows, and couldn't stop looking at Violet's face, and his cock. "Cum for me."

Violet leant his head back. His words became airless as he sped up, until finally Harry felt his own load coming. Thick rivulets of cum shot out across Harry's stomach, a second pulse of strands that landed wet and warm up between his chest, and then another. I love you. He slammed his head back into the pillow and let go. His balls tightened and everything released; he blew everything deeply into Violet who was still lost in his own orgasmic end. The pleasure built up in waves, years of pent-up frustration and confusion exploding into Violet's cunt. He let out a long groan, and shuddered until finally Violet slid off his dick, and slumped next to him on the bed with an exhausted moan. She nestled into him as he closed his eyes. He couldn't stop the laugh from bubbling up. The sex had uncorked him and he couldn't stop laughing, out of relief, out of satisfaction. Violet rubbed his hands up his body and played with the cum on his chest, rubbing some of it into his skin like lotion.

"That was--everything."

"I'm glad you liked it," said Violet.

I'm in love with you. For a brief moment he wanted to say it, but stopped himself. That didn't mean it wasn't true. God, he'd never made love like this before. It had been so dirty, so different, and yet somehow it had been everything he'd been missing and more. As he slid his arm underneath Violet's neck, and pulled him close, he realized that there wasn't any going back now. He couldn't pretend everything was okay. He'd tasted the gold, and silver just wasn't cutting it any more. What am I going to do?